


When Everyone Else Knows Before You

by benjji2795



Series: Zimbits [3]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Holiday Cliches, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Jack, canon-typical alcohol use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-08 17:23:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5506397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benjji2795/pseuds/benjji2795
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometime in between Winter Screw and Epikegster 2014, Jack figures a few things out (with a little push from the rest of the Haus)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DarkWaterFalls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkWaterFalls/gifts).



> Hi, so I know this isn't much, but it's kind of been slow going on the plot I have in mind for this fic, so I wanted to give y'all some tangible evidence of what I've been working on. Basically it's a combination of the prompt I got, plus an idea of what might have happened if Kent hadn't shown up at Epikegster, plus a holiday cliche thrown in because it's that time of year...I hope this will eventually live up to what you were hoping for (once it's finished)...I'm hoping to get another part up by mid-day of the 26th. (Also the title sucks as usual, I'm sorry)

Bitty woke up the morning after Winter Screw with a pounding headache (no surprise considering how many times one of the many flasks the hockey team had been carrying (and yes there were _many_ ) had been passed his way). Sunlight was streaming into his room, persistently knifing through his closed eyelids to beat against his retinas, causing the pounding in his head to intensify. Bitty groaned and rolled out of bed, stumbling into the hallway in search of painkillers (and a strong cup of coffee), but was distracted by distinct sounds coming from Jack’s room that could be interpreted as—well, if Bitty didn’t know Jack any better, he definitely could’ve assumed something. He stepped closer (all the while scolding himself for the mental images his brain was conjuring up from those noises).

 

“DEETS DEETS DEETS DEETS!” Shitty started chanting insistently (and also suddenly), causing Bitty to jump backwards. There was more grumbling followed by a long silence.

 

“I have no deets, man,” Jack finally said quietly, and Bitty could very clearly imagine Jack’s lips firmly pressed together, curving downward in a frown as he shrugged and gave Shitty his answer.

 

“Don’t give me any of that dumbass Zimmermanns don’t kiss and tell bullshit,” Shitty replied, sounding fondly exasperated. Bitty had to try very hard not to giggle at Shitty’s tenacity on the subject; he simply couldn’t imagine Jack ever giving anyone “deets” (or ever having done something deets worthy, for that matter).

 

“Get out OF MY BED,” Jack pleaded, raising his voice slightly. There was a thump followed by a groan and Bitty assumed that Jack probably pushed Shitty off the bed. Shitty’s time on the floor was apparently short lived, because almost immediately Shitty was murmuring again.

 

“No one will do this with you in the NHL…shhh don’t fight ow ow ow…why do you resist my snuggles?”

 

Bitty shook his head and headed down to the kitchen. A year and a half of observation and he was still no closer to understanding Jack and Shitty’s friendship (even Ransom and Holster didn’t have a clue) and Bitty guessed that maybe some of the best things in the world just couldn’t be explained.


	2. The Conversation Extended

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, because of Christmas, I really didn't get to sit down and do much writing (like zero time at all), but I wanted to keep this sort of going, cause I did say I'd post something today...after this update, I won't post anything else until the fic is completed, and then I'll probably condense it all into one chapter.
> 
> Anyway, here's a little bit more of the story :)

“Okay, but for real, what actually fucking happened?” Shitty pressed, reluctantly climbing out of Jack’s bed and settling into the armchair across from it.

 

“We went to the dance, I walked her home. That’s it. I don’t know what else to tell you,” Jack replied tersely.

 

“Jesus fucking Christ Zimmermann,” Shitty groaned, throwing his head back against the chair in exasperation. “How long is it going to take for you to get your head out of your own fucking ass?”

 

Jack blinked, staring at Shitty blankly.

 

“I’m just saying, I thought Winter Screw would’ve spurred you to do _something_.”

 

“ _Do something_?”

 

“Yeah, you need to either buck the fuck up and tell him about your feelings or move on.”

 

“Him?”

 

“I am not here for this shit, Jack. You know who the fuck I mean.”

 

“I—I really don’t.”

 

Shitty examined Jack for a moment before chuckling and shaking his head.

 

“Brah, this—this is a new level of oblivious, even for you, Mr. Hockey-Robot,” Shitty remarked, standing up and slapping Jack on back.

 

“Shitty, what the hell are you talking about?” Jack questioned, looking at Shitty with his eyebrows cocked in confusion.

 

“Nah brah, you’re gonna have to figure that out for yourself. I’ve already said too much.”

 

Shitty sauntered back to his room through the bathroom and Jack paused a moment, wondering what Shitty meant by all that. Coming up with no explanation beyond “Shitty being Shitty”, Jack stood up and headed down to the kitchen to get something for breakfast.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, so I lied...I said I wasn't going to post anything again until I was done, but progress has just been so goddamn slow, I just kinda felt like I needed to get something out there so it didn't seem like I wasn't working on it...I'll get this thing done eventually, I just gotta get past some fucking terrible writer's block to get there :\

“Stupid Jack Zimmermann,” Bitty muttered under his breath as he moved around the kitchen, getting ingredients together to make muffins for breakfast. Since he’d had some coffee and painkillers, he was now in a decent enough state to reflect on the night before while he tossed the butter, sugar and flour into a mixing bowl.

 

His night would’ve been perfectly lovely if not for one Jack Laurent Zimmermann. The rugby boy (Bitty had already managed to forget his name…or did he actually ever learn it? Whoops…) Ransom and Holster had set him up with had definitely been attractive, with good muscles and a very cute accent. He was funny and by all accounts, Bitty should’ve had a great time. He honestly should have been completely smitten with the boy, but by the end of the night, he hadn’t even gotten the other boy’s phone number or made plans to meet up again.

 

Rather than having a good time and paying attention to his date, he spent the entire night thinking about how his date wasn’t like Jack, comparing every little thing he did to Jack, like how his eyes were hazel instead of icy blue, or how his shoulders were thin and not as well-defined. And on top of that, he also spent a lot of time staring at Jack longingly from across the dance floor, like some pathetic loser.

 

Stupid Jack Zimmermann with his dopey brilliant blue eyes and his incredible hockey butt and his dorky personality and his dumb little chirping smirk and—

 

“Stupid J—,” Bitty started to mutter again when he turned around, quickly snapping his jaw shut when he saw that Jack was standing in the kitchen doorway, quietly watching him. Bitty had been so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he hadn’t noticed Jack.

 

“H-hey Jack,” he stuttered, spinning around so that Jack wouldn’t see his cheeks turn a dark shade of red (even though he knew the tips of his ears were turning red too).

 

“Morning Bittle,” Jack murmured casually, reaching past him to grab a mug. “What are you making?”

 

“I hadn’t decided yet. I was thinking something like coffee cake muffins might be good but Ransom and Dex absolutely hate those so I probably should just stick to something simple like blueberry,” Bitty rambled, unnerved by Jack’s appearance in the middle of his mental rant about him.

 

“Sure,” Jack shrugged as he sat down at the kitchen table. “So you’re not too hungover, eh?”

 

“Jack, honey, you know even if I was, I’d still be in here,” Bitty laughed, quickly gathering the ingredients. “So how was your date?” Bitty continued (not that he really wanted to know how Jack’s date went); he just needed something to talk about, something to distract him from his thoughts.

* * *

 

“Good,” Jack answered simply. What was it with people wanting to know how his date went? First Shitty, and now Bittle? “You seemed to like your date, eh?” Jack commented quickly (to deflect attention away from him). From watching Bittle, he could see that he was smiling and it wasn’t a stretch to say that he was having a good time (but wait, why had he been watching Bittle?).

 

“Yeah I guess,” Bittle replied, mixing his muffins in what appeared to be an overly aggressive manner. “He was a nice guy, but I don’t think it’s going to turn into anything.”

 

“That’s too bad.”

 

“He was just some guy Ransom and Holster set me up with. It’s not like I was expectin’ anything different,” Bittle replied nonchalantly.

 

Jack snorted into his coffee just and Ransom and Holster walked in.

 

“Alright Bits, you gotta give with the deets bro,” Holster declared loudly, tossing an arm around Bittle’s shoulder.

 

“I don’t know what y’all are expectin’ me to say,” Bittle shrugged, quickly scurrying out from under Holster’s arm, abandoning his batter on the counter as he started inching his way towards the way out. “Y’all were watchin’ me like a hawk all night, it’s not like y’all don’t already know what happened.”

 

Jack felt a swell of— _satisfaction_ at that. He was watching Bittle all night, and he _knew_ nothing happened between Bittle and his date. Jack didn’t trust the boy from the moment he showed up at the Haus, and it was definitely satisfying to know that he didn’t get the chance to—well, now that Jack considered it, act like he was Bittle’s date…which was a rather—strange way of looking at it, Jack thought. Very strange…

 

“Okay bro, we’ll just have to try harder next time,” Ransom said, and Jack felt as if he maybe missed some part of the conversation while he was in his own head.

 

“I’d really rather you didn’t,” Bittle chuckled nervously as he exited the kitchen.

 

“You’re not getting out of this bro, not until we find you the perfect match!” Holster shouted, turning to wink at Jack before dragging Ransom out of the room.

 

“What the hell was that all about?” Jack muttered, taking his coffee and walking back up to his room, willing himself to forget about all the strange happenings this morning.


	4. Part 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's a good chance that this entire thing is going to feel rushed, but I really couldn't think of any other way to kinda bring this thing together...and I really needed to get this done anyway, so it is what it is. Hope you guys enjoyed this story :)

A couple of days later, Shitty unceremoniously burst into Jack’s room (less than fully clothed, as usual), flopping down onto his bed uninvited as Jack sat at his desk, working on homework.  Jack made no move to pay attention to Shitty, keeping his focus firmly on the paper he was writing.

 

“So have you figured it out yet?” Shitty asked when it became clear to him that Jack wasn’t going to acknowledge him.

 

“Figured out what?” Jack answered, pretending not to know what Shitty was talking about, even though he very full well did.  He’d thought about it some, sure, but not enough to come up with an answer, something he knew Shitty wouldn’t be happy about.  Jack hoped that by playing dumb, Shitty might leave him alone and not force this conversation to happen.

 

“Nice try, but you’re not getting off that easy.”

 

“Look Shits, I really don’t know who it is that you think I like, and it’s not really that important that I figure it out either,” Jack sighed, putting down his pencil and spinning his chair around to face Shitty.  Jack just figured that knowing who it was would make things more complicated for the both of them, and it would be easier if he remained blissfully unaware.  It’s not like he probably deserved whoever the guy was anyway; no one would want to be the boyfriend to a closeted future NHL player with no plans of coming out—possibly ever.

 

“You deserve it Jack, don’t even think that you don’t,” Shitty said, startling Jack.  It didn’t matter how long they had known each other, it always shocked Jack that Shitty could sometimes see right into his head and know what he was thinking (which he did fairly often, if Jack were to think about it).

 

“Shitty—”

 

“Jack, don’t talk, just listen.  You really deserve to be happy, whether you think you do or not,” Shitty interrupted.  “I know that getting to the NHL and playing professional hockey will make you happy, but that’s not all there is out there.  Happy isn’t the same as feeling complete, and I don’t think that you would feel complete if you were alone.  Not even asexual-aromantic people are happy being alone, for fuck’s sake!  So just—take this chance and do what you want, not what you think you should do or what you think you deserve.”

 

“Shitty,” Jack sighed, speaking softly as he dropped his head towards his chest.  “Whoever it is, I can’t put them through all the shit that’s going to come with me being an NHL star.  I don’t—I don’t even know if I can ever come out.”

 

“Whoever it is will be a grown adult, capable of making their own decisions,” Shitty countered.  “If they want to deal with that, then they will.  You shouldn’t—no, you _can’t_ make that decision for them.  So do me a huge fucking favor and just give it some thought and stop writing this off.”

 

Without another word, Shitty clapped Jack on the back and then turned and walked out of the room.  Jack turned back to his desk, trying to get back to his homework, but he just couldn’t focus, Shitty’s words echoing around in his head.

 

Sometimes, Jack thought as he stood up to go down to the kitchen (where Bittle hopefully was), when he listened to Shitty speak, he wondered why Shitty wasn’t studying to be a counselor or therapist.  He certainly had a knack for sounding like that therapist Jack had back when he was in rehab.

 

“Oh Jack!” Bittle exclaimed warmly as Jack entered the kitchen, breaking Jack from his thoughts.  “Your timing is just spot on!  There’s a pie finished cooling if you wanted to have some.”

 

“Sure,” Jack responded, feeling an easy grin creeping onto his face.

 

“It’s maple crusted apple.  I know that’s your favorite,” Bittle said, carefully cutting a slice and plating it for Jack.  Jack smiled and mumbled thanks, sitting at the table and eating while Bittle continued to hum and bustle around the kitchen.  As he ate, a million other things rattled around in Jack’s head.  Winter Screw.  Shitty’s words.  Holster’s wink.  Wondering what it all meant, and who this mystery guy could possibly be.

 

The more he thought, the more Jack’s heart rate started to quicken, and so he decided to instead focus on the things around him.  Like the light streaming through the window over the sink, which was hitting Bittle’s hair just right, turning his light blond into something more of a shiny gold, or the gentle splash of water while Bittle washed dishes, Bittle’s broad shoulders shifting under his shirt as he worked, or the soft murmur of music filling the room, Bittle singing the lyrics softly as his hips swayed gently to the beat.

 

Seeing what was around him (seeing Bittle) helped Jack to calm down, erase some of his anxious thoughts from his mind.  Even erase all of them, until it was just thoughts about Bittle.  How Bittle always made him calmer, how he would always rather be somewhere where Bittle was than anywhere else, how he had this warm feeling in his chest whenever he was around Bittle, how attractive Bittle looked right n—

 

Oh.  _Oh._

 

Jack glanced down at his plate, which thankfully was mostly clear except for a few crumbs.  He stood up and silently made his way out of the kitchen.  He walked into Shitty’s room and sat down on the floor.

 

“I’m fucked,” Jack mumbled, burying his head in his shaking hands.

 

“Amen to that brah.  I know you are, I’ve know you were for a while,” Shitty hummed in agreement, plopping down on the floor next to him.  “But for now, just breathe.”

 

“Of all the people,” Jack said after taking in a few unsteady breaths.  “He’s the one person who would get hurt the most by a relationship with me.”

 

“Maybe so brah, maybe so…but he’s like, totally fucking crazy about you, so maybe not.”

 

“No I can’t—I can’t put him through that.”

 

“Jack Laurent Zimmermann, what did I tell you not like fifteen fucking minutes ago?” Shitty scolded, narrowing his eyes on Jack sternly and forcing his chin up to look at him.

 

“That I can’t make that decision for him,” Jack replied softly, looking down towards the ground and avoiding Shitty’s gaze.

 

“Right, so you’re going to find your fucking balls, tell him how you feel, and let him decide what he wants to deal with,” Shitty answered, giving Jack a glare that tried to say he had no other option; that he was going to do what Shitty said.

 

Jack nodded his head slightly and Shitty nodded back in satisfaction, standing up and walking out of the room.

* * *

 

Jack spent the next few days trying to figure out how to get Bittle—actually Bitty; he should probably actually start calling him Bitty, or Eric, or something far less formal than Bittle—to figure it out.  Jack knew that he was terrible with words, and the odds that he could tell Bitty what he was feeling were quite slim.  So instead he started hanging out with Bitty more, leaning in a little closer than before, chirping his more aggressively (and Jack hoped, more flirtily), hoping that would make his intentions clear.

 

But Bitty seemed to be missing it all; by the time Epikegster 2k14 rolled around, Jack was not any closer to declaring his intentions than Bitty was to figuring it.  But when Bitty burst into his room the night of Epikegster, Jack sensed an opportunity and followed him down to the party.

 

“I cannot believe you, Jack!  You were fixing to hide away in your room!?” Bitty exclaimed when the settled into an empty space at the party, sounding like he was already a couple of beers deep.  “During what could very well be the last _ridiculous_ kegster of your Samwell career?”

 

“Well, you know, something always goes wrong during these parties,” Jack shrugged.  It’s why he always avoided Haus parties, usually on a night like tonight especially.  “And I think Ransom and Holster invited half of the colleges in Boston.”

 

Recalling the last Epikegster, Jack launched into the story about the football player who puked in Shitty’s room, delighting in the way Bitty seemed to be hanging on every word.

 

“Good Lord, I’m _tweeting_ that,” Bitty said pointedly, pulling out his phone.  Jack watched him in silent fascination, watching how his fingers nimbly flitted across the screen, typing ten times faster than Jack had ever been able to.  “I’m surprised you’re not chirping me for having my nose _buried in my phone_ ,” Bitty added once he had posted the tweet.

 

“Well,” Jack answered, seeing a chance to do something different that might get Bitty’s attention.  “If it’s out.  We should take a…‘selfie’ or something together.”

 

“There it is,” Bitty groaned, appearing to have taken Jack’s words as a chirp.

 

“I’m serious!” Jack clarified.  “You know.  Like.  ‘Bitty’s 1st Big Kegster.’  You could put it on your blog.  I mean, I don’t get selfies, but you’ve told me that it’s a ‘thing’ that everyone does so, why not?” Jack finished with a shrug.

 

“Sure—oh goodness!” Bitty stammered, motioning for Jack to lean over towards him.  Bitty fumbled with his phone for a moment before turning to Jack and telling him to smile (which he obliged).

 

“Holy fuck Bits, what did you say to him?” Shitty shouted, coming up to them from seemingly out of nowhere.  “I never thought I’d live to see the day where Jack Zimmermann would willingly take a selfie, period.”

 

Jack opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off by Shitty grabbing his arm and dragging him towards the kitchen, as Shitty dragged Bitty with his other hand and yelled countless exclamations about “Bitty, you glorious motherfucker!” that Jack didn’t pay any attention to.  Suddenly they came to a halt in the doorway to the kitchen.

 

“Dudes, you might want to look up,” Shitty smirked, stepping out from between them and quickly hurrying away.

 

“Lord, what was that ab…” Bitty started, trailing off as he glanced up, seeing the mistletoe that someone had hung over the kitchen entryway.  “Uh, there’s no reason we have to—”

 

Jack interrupted Bitty before he could say anything more, afraid that if he let him talk, Jack would talk himself out of doing this.  He swiftly leaned over and pressed their lips together, holding his breath as he did.  Bitty was frozen, unmoving for what was the longest second of Jack’s life.  And then Jack could feel Bitty smile as he started to kiss back.

 

They kissed for what could’ve been an hour, or thirty seconds, or five minutes, but then Jack pulled away, grabbing Bitty’s hand and pulling him upstairs to his room.

 

“Told you it would work,” Shitty grinned at the rest of the gaping Samwell hockey team.


End file.
